Tumbling Down
by himitsutsubasa
Summary: Kyntak seems to be knocking stuff over. Very. Often. A 5 plus 1 fiction.


Kyntak leaned over the desk.

"Six, you have to understand."

Six rolled his eyes. Did he?

"I really find the whole thing pointless."

Kyntak's eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

"Pointless!" he gasped.

Six shook his head and turned back to the paper work. He gave the sheets a once over, committing it all to memory.

"Yes. Does it matter if the top stops spinning?"

Kyntak gawped incredulously.

"It's a freaking mind rape!"

His hands went out in a swinging motion. The arc barely brushed the ultra-thin computer but hit the cup of pens, a gift from Kyntak to make the room more "lived in".

Six got out of his chair and bent over to retrieve the cup. Thankfully, it hadn't broken. He set it on the table and wiped it of finger prints.

"Stop knocking over my pens."

Kyntak stared at him intently. Six sighed and planted himself in his chair.

"What is it now, idiot?"

* * *

"Six, do you mind getting my keys?"

Six looked about the old room for them. The holes in the floor were a good start. Suddenly his eyes caught a sharp light reflecting off something. As he approached he realized it was a set of keys, though how it got there was beyond him.

He bent over and scoped them up. When he stood upright, he could feel Kyntak's eyes on his back.

He threw them at Kyntak's head on the way out.

"I found them."

* * *

Kyntak tipped over the glass ornament in Queen's office the next time.

To her credit, she didn't blink as Six vanished from his chair and reappeared bending over to catch it milliseconds before it hit the ground. He set the new blue and green swirled ball of glass back on her desk, turning it to find the slightly flatter side of the almost perfectly spherical ornament.

"Thank you."

She raised an eyes brow at Kyntak who seemed to be smothering a smirk.

"Something you want to share?" she asked.

"Nothing." Kyntak held his hands up.

"Absolutely nothing."

* * *

The stream of falling objects continued and almost escalated. Six found himself bending over to pick up several sets of keys, pens, phones, wallets, gadgets, and just about everything else that obeyed gravity.

And he continued to see Kyntak's smug reaction and the, less smug more long suffering, faces of his co workers. He definitely did not see Two give Kyntak a high five after one of those instances.

An eraser hit the floor and bounced slightly beyond his feet.

"Do you mind?" Kyntak asked. He reclined in his chair until it rested on the back two legs.

Six bent over and picked up the eraser.

"A little."

Kyntak tapped his pencil to his notebook.

"You're supposed to say 'not at all'."

Six tossed the eraser at him not looking but knowing that his brother could snatch it out of the air.

"Not at all," he replied.

As expected, Kyntak caught the eraser and continued scribbling in his notebook.

"Very funny."

Six finished his work a long time ago. He wasn't even sure why he was still on his feet. All he was that every time he moved, Kyntak started a new page.

He could hold a pose for hours.

He knew he didn't have to.

* * *

"Six, where did you say you kept the pan?"

Six got up from the floor where he'd been doing curl ups and called back.

"They're in the bottom left!"

A rattle came from the kitchen as Kyntak rummaged about.

"I don't see it."

Six wiped off his forehead with a rag and made his way to the kitchen.

"It's farther left."

Kyntak turned around and gaped. Six rolled his shoulders, flexing while doing so.

"Is it odd to work out shirtless in one's own home?"

Kyntak swallowed.

"Not at all." He pointed to the drawer.

"Where is it again?"

Six pushed his brother aside and peered inside the drawer.

"Here."

The crepe pan materialized in Six's hand. He passed it to Kyntak, who swallowed a little more visually.

"Put it back when you're done."

"Alright."

If Kyntak's voice was a little strained, Six didn't remark.

He was too busy plotting revenge.

* * *

Six rolled his eyes as Kyntak tapped his pen. Six's pen was resting in his hand and waiting for the next piece of relevant information to be transcribed. Why they were making handwritten notes for the new guy was beyond him. It was probably Kyntak's idea.

"And that's all." The agents collated their notes and passed them in to be reviewed. Six did the same, ignoring the fact his looked typed while a peek at Kyntak's made him realized that handwriting, and then spelling, were not his brother's strong point.

The other agents muttered something about coffee and doughnuts in the lounge and filed out. King nodded to them and took his leave, probably to get one of the previously mentioned doughnuts. The old man was allowed to indulge a little.

Six glanced about. The room clearly was empty. He flicked his pen and it landed with a light thud.

"Oops."

Kyntak glanced at the writing instrument, which had procrastination printed on it in bright blue letters (also a gift from Kyntak), and laughed.

"I suppose you want me to get that for you?"

Six smirked.

"That would be lovely."

Kyntak chuckled softly, bending over to pick up the pen. From Six's vantage point, he completely understood the previous antics, very well.

"Enjoying the view?"

Kyntak wore, and made Six wear, fitted to straight line trousers for a reason, something about skinny boys in tight pants. Six's face let his brother know exactly how he felt about the whole ordeal.

"I thought you might like to return the favor."

* * *

I seriously hope this will not murder my apostrophes. Wall is up.


End file.
